


We Don't Like You. We Don't Find You Interesting.

by Porphyria



Category: One Direction (Band), Radio 1 RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe, M/M, Non Famous
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-04
Updated: 2014-12-04
Packaged: 2018-02-28 04:50:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,080
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2719349
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Porphyria/pseuds/Porphyria
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Saw the sign did you? Pity you didn’t follow it.”</p><p>“I have fucking had it. Why do you hate me so fucking much? Everyone else loves me, or at least pretends to. I’ve never done anything to you, so what’s your problem, you little piss ant?”</p>
            </blockquote>





	We Don't Like You. We Don't Find You Interesting.

**Author's Note:**

> This is the first ficathon I've ever been a part of and I'm so excited!! This fic is based on [this](http://carswinky.tumblr.com/tagged/everyone-thinks-it%27s-hilarious) prompt. Thank you so much to Erin for putting this on, and being so understanding when I was a few days late!! 
> 
> I hope you guys enjoy :)

He saw the moment Nick entered the flat, his eyes already searching for Louis. He looked furious. Louis instantly knew he made a mistake. He immediately grabbed one of Harry’s dangling, splattered with ink tentacle arms, and spun him so that Louis was hiding behind his body.

It didn’t work. Nick spotted him almost instantly. Therefore, Louis did the most logical thing to do in such a situation and fled. He ended up in Niall’s room, standing in the furthest corner and prayed Nick didn’t see which room he ran into.

Wishful thinking that. Nick stormed in after a couple seconds. His anger was the quiet kind. Which actually made Louis even more uneasy. Nick advanced forward quickly and silently, and then grabbed Louis by his shoulders and pushed him against the wall. He held him there for a few moments, Louis’ heavy breathing interrupting the otherwise silent air with Nick’s arm as a bar across Louis chest. Louis could tell Nick was staring straight at him, however he refused to meet Nick’s eyes, instead staring at the stupid skeleton on Nick’s Yeezus t-shirt—he was positive Nick was wearing it ironically.  

Finally, Nick broke the silence, “Look at me.”

Louis wouldn’t let himself be a coward and so he glanced up and his eyes directly connected with Nick’s. “Saw the sign did you? Pity you didn’t follow it.”

“I have fucking had it. Why do you hate me so fucking much? Everyone else loves me, or at least pretends to. I’ve never done anything to you, so what’s your problem, you little piss ant?”

Louis huffed. “My problem? My problem is that you’re a stupid, hipster twat. You’re fucking annoying and you won’t fuck off. You’re not even funny.”

“You know what, Louis? You’re just a dick. All you do is whinge andruin everyone else’s night.You’re a fucking brat.” 

“Yeah, well you’re no better, _Grimmy.”_ Louis spat his name. “Do you ever fucking stop?”

Nick’s eyes blazed. “Oh no, sweetheart, we both know you’re the one in the wrong here. Now grow. Up.”

For another minute there was just silence punctuated with their heavy breathing. Then Louis lunged forward, pulled Nick down by the neck, and kissed him hot and heavy. For a moment it was just Louis’s delicate hands on Nick’s cheeks and Nick’s arms around Louis’ waist, and Louis felt like that was all there was to life. At least until he heard the door creak open and saw the back of Niall’s head pop in.

Niall was still facing towards the lounge, but he was slowly turning, “Hey, guys, Harry sent me to come make sure you haven’t murdered each other haha, he’s too scared to ch—Oh my God! Harry, Harry! C’mere, mate, you’re never going to believe this!”

Louis quickly unscrambled himself from Nick and was standing at least a metre away from him when Harry bumbled into the room saying, “Tell me there isn’t any blood, Niall, I don’t think I can take it if there’s blood.” And then stopping. “You guys weren’t… _were you_?”

Niall, the traitor, bobbed his head up and down, “Oh yeah they were!” When he started walking away Louis got nervous.

“Niall, it wasn’t what it looked like at all.”

“Yeah, I’m sure, mate, you guys were just having a secret conversation with your lips. Uh huh.” He continued back towards the lounge.

Harry’s eyes were wide and vacillating between Louis and Nick every couple of seconds. “But…But I thought you two hated each other. Right?”

His statement was compounded with Niall’s voice emanating from the living room, “—Grimmy and Louis hate each other? Turns out it was just sexual tension.” The resulting laughter is enough to make Louis cringe.

Louis quickly looked at Nick and then back to Harry, “We do. We definitely do. He’s such a twat, I don’t even know why you hang out with him.” And then he shouldered his way out of the room.

 

_A Few Hours Ago_

Louis was determined to make this party the best fucking flat party ever. Not like last weekend’s one where Nick Grimshaw—even in his mind the name was spat like an insult—monopolized the whole fucking party talking about some stupid new indie band. By the end of the night, everyone was eating out of his fucking hand. Especially Harry. He was always fucking around. He showed up to every party and even sometimes randomly during the week. Taking up all the space on the sofa and spouting whatever bullshit he was on about that day.  Ugh, _twat._

Louis decided he had to do something tonight; he was not going to wake up the next morning to find Nick frying bacon in the kitchen. Not again. So he left his very important task of taking inventory on the alcohol to go find a nice big piece of computer paper. His eyes scanned the rest of the room for something to write with. Finally he settled on a nice, red Sharpie the boys used to make shopping lists. With it he scrawled on the paper: “NICK: STOP COMING BY OUR HOUSE. WE DON’T LIKE YOU. WE DON’T FIND YOU INTERESTING.”

Louis puffed a pleased sigh at his work and then went to post it on the door to their flat. Hopefully it’ll ward off all unpleasant hipsters.

When people began arriving an hour or so later and commenting on it, Harry had to go take a look. Louis tried to stop him, saying it was just a funny little prank, something to make their guests laugh. It didn’t work. Harry continued toward the door. When he finally made it to the sign, Louis hanging off his elbow, his brow furrowed as he read. When his hand reached out to start to peel off the paper, Louis grabbed it. “It’s just a joke, Hazza, come on. The dick hasn’t even been here to see it yet. Anyway this is what we do. He’s a pretentious hipster who always eats all of my gummy bears and I call him out on it. The pretentious hipster bit, not the gummy bears, well also the gummy bears, but mostly the hipster part. We fight. The end.”

“It isn’t nice. Why do you hate Nick so much? He’s my friend. And anyway it’s not even true. None of the other boys have a problem with Grimmy. He’s funny and we like him. It’s just you that has some sort of weird grudge against him.”

Louis couldn’t believe Harry was acting like this. “No. He’s an annoying twat and all he does is randomly quote Foucalt. We all hate him,” he stuck his head into the living room, finding Zayn and Liam, “Right, boys?”

Liam just stuck his hands up in the universal sign for don’t look at me, and Zayn just said, “I’m staying out of this one, mate.”

Louis shot him a dirty look and then turned back to Harry. “Look he’ll find it funny. God, it’s a prank.” It wasn’t a prank. Not at all. Louis hated that fucking slimy bastard. He hated how he always took up all of Harry’s time and acted like he was so much better than everyone else. What a fucking douche. Louis was the only one with the fucking balls to call him on it. Someone needed to bring him down a peg.

Harry just looked at him for a minute, and then shook his head, his curls flying everywhere.

Louis turned to Zayn and Liam, “Come on, crank the music up, it’s a fucking party!” It was fine. It was all going to be fine. This is what he and Nick do. They fucking dig and dig at each other. Anyway it’s not like he was cutting deep. It’s just a dumb sign. Nick’ll probably sigh and make a big deal about it and then say something nasty about Louis and that’s that.

 

_Present_

Louis hurried to the kitchen after escaping Harry’s attempts at slowing him down. He stared at the bottles of alcohol. Now, what was going to get him wasted the fasted? He bypassed the bottles of beer and Malibu and other assorted liquors, then his eyes settled on his old faithful: good old Jack.  He poured five shots in a row and downed the first and the second in a quick succession. Then as he was grabbing the third a hand shot out and held his wrist down.

“Maybe wanna slow down there, don’t you think, love.”

“Ugh, I’m going to puke in my fucking mouth. No, I don’t think I do want to slow down, Grimmy. I think I want to get nice and wasted so I can forget the tragedy that was the last fifteen minutes forever.”

“Look it wasn’t exactly the best moment of my life either, but I’m not trying to get myself alcohol poisoning over it.” Nick’s face was twisted into a grimace and his hair had started to flop down. His hand slowly withdrew from Louis’s wrist; he hadn’t even noticed it had still been there otherwise he obviously would have shaken Nick off.

Louis glared at him from under his fringe, and just to spite him grabbed the third glass and shot it. He then picked up the other two and stomped from the room like one of his little sisters.

A few hours later, Louis was well and truly trashed. He stumbled his way out onto the balcony for a fag, where he found Zayn, already smoking. He was wearing a vest, which put his tattoos on display. Louis couldn’t help eyeing the little caricature of Perrie on his upper arm. He wondered what it must feel like to love someone so much, to be so convinced of his or her presence in your life that you went out and got him or her tattooed on your body. Ink injected into your skin, as close as you can get to the bloodstream. And then he laughed at what a fucking idiot he was being in his own head. He needed a fucking cigarette.

Louis just gave Zayn a look until he acquiesced and handed over his packet of Marlboros and a lighter. Louis took one out, slipped it into his mouth, lit it, and then breathed in deeply. He watched as the little cloud of smoke from his exhale twirled up into the night sky.

“Have you ever hated someone so much you just physically shake with it in their presence?” He side-eyes Zayn to get his reaction.

Zayn just laughed softly and fully turned toward Louis, “I don’t think your shaking from hate, mate.” He raised his eyebrow and Louis scoffed. His nice steady buzz from before seemed to disappear. 

“Yeah, whatever. Nick Grimshaw is a fucking dick. I hate his guts. He’s annoying and always around and all he talks about are underground bands and Wes Anderson films, which I know for a fact he hasn’t been able to fully sit through. I hate him _so_ much. Why do I hate him so much, Zayn?”

Zayn turned his body back to facing the railing of the balcony, “You don’t, Lou, you don’t hate him.”

Louis didn’t reply. He just walked back into the living room.

Harry was sprawled on the sofa along with a few of his admirers, Niall was sitting in the corner playing guitar with some of the London Irish Crew, and Louis could hear Liam loudly explaining how to mix the perfect Gin and Tonic from the kitchen. He refused to acknowledge Nick manning the music selection. Or the fact that one of his favorite songs was currently playing.

“God is this a fucking party or what?” Several people Louis was sure he had seen before but had no idea who they were seemed to agree, and so a cheer went up when he all but shouted, “Let’s get fucking pissed!”  

A little while later found Louis dancing on a coffee table to Katy Perry’s Roar while holding a sloshy cup of Harry’s special recipe. No one really knew what was in Harry’s concoction, all anyone could tell was that it tasted strongly of fruit and got you bladdered in a pinch. He gave one last cheer before he tried to figure out a way to maneuver himself down without getting a fucking concussion. Once he finally found his unsteady feet he went and found Harry.

Unfortunately, none other than Nick Grimshaw—of fucking course—was hanging off Harry’s elbow vociferously exclaiming the virtues of Katy Perry. Louis moved closer so that he was on Harry’s other side and viciously butted in, “Yeah, like you listen to Katy Perry. I doubt you’ve ever heard anything more mainstream than These New Puritans.”

“Look, Louis, you can be as childish as you bloody want, but I’m not doing it tonight. I’m just not.” Nick strode away.

Harry turned to Louis, his big eyes disappointed, “He wasn’t even talking to you Louis, or even being a dick in anyway. What is wrong with you? Also These New Puritans are amazing, and you’d know that if you just gave things a chance.” He left to join Liam by the speakers.

Louis huffed. Gave things a chance? Gave things a _chance?_ He gave plenty of things a chance. He gave Liam a chance when Harry dragged him home on a night out and said he looked sad and lonely and there was no way Harry could just leave him there. He gave every single weird breakfast experiment of Niall’s a chance. He gave Nick fucking Grimshaw a chance the first time they met. He even liked Nick at first, but then the idiot had to go and ruin it by opening his fucking mouth.

He was about to go top up his drink and pretend this whole fucked up thing was just a figment of his drunken imagination, when he suddenly got the very persistent urge to vom. He sprinted to the loo, pushing poor Cher out of his way in the process. He flung open the door and dropped to his knees, clutching the porcelain.

Lovely, he’d definitely wanted to see that nice chicken korma curry he’d had for dinner again. He heaved again; luckily this time there wasn’t as much left in his stomach. As he was coughing into the bowl, his throat sore, he became aware of a hand stroking his back and a voice placating, “There, there get it all up, love.”

Louis turned his head, and of course because this night couldn’t get any worse, it was Nick. He mumbled out something along the lines of, “’m not your love,” and then just rested his head on the side of the toilet. He was too tired to muster up the energy it would take to make another nasty comment to Nick, and anyway his hand had moved up into Louis’s hair and it felt far too good to do anything that might jeopardize the hand rescinding.

He let himself enjoy the hair stroking for a few more minutes before he turned his head again, “What are you doing in here anyway?”

Nick looked at him, bewildered, “I was in here first, poppet. You ran in and shoved me out of the way while I was washing my hands.” Louis vaguely remembered hearing the tap running.

“While it’s your fault anyway for not locking the door.”

“The door was definitely locked, you just barged in anyway!”

Louis knew how faulty that lock was but he just replied with an “mmhmm” and a disparaging look.

“Whatever it’s not important. Are you okay? Do you want some crackers?” Nick was looking at him concerned.

“What? Why are you being so nice to me?” Had Nick completely lost the plot? They couldn’t stand each other.

“Would you like me to leave?” No. No, Louis definitely didn’t want him to leave, but there was no fucking way he was going to admit that.

“Just. Just put your fucking hand back in my hair.”

“I’ve been in this situation plenty of times. It’s not fun being at the mercy of the toilet gods,” Nick laughed and reached out and starting slowly stroking Louis hair.

Louis turned back to the toilet bowl feeling a bit sick again. “I think, I think that’s all.”

“For now. Trust me, I saw the way you were pounding those shots. You’re gonna be in here for a while now, love. Here up you get, let’s go sit down.” He grabbed Louis’s arm and hefted him up part way.

Louis felt even more wobbly on his feet, “Let’s just, let’s just sit here,” and he dragged both Nick and himself so that they were sitting on the lip of the bath. Nick continued to pet his hair a bit while Louis tried to find his pride which he’d apparently left somewhere in the toilet bowl along with the entire contents of his stomach.

“You never answered my question. Why are you being so nice to me? I’ve never been anything but fucking awful to you.” Louis turned his head toward Nick’s.

Nick sighed and brought his other hand up to rub at the bridge of his nose, “I’ve never hated you, Louis. Actually, you seem pretty great when you’re not being such a little shitbag.”

“Yeah? You think so?” Louis tried to calm his breathing, but Nick’s intense gaze was making it a little hard to do so.

“Yeah,” Nick breathed, reaching his hand to cup Louis’s cheek.

Louis moved closer, leaning into Nick’s hand. At the same time he seemed to lose his balance on the edge of the tub and tumbled into the bath, bringing Nick with him. They ended up in a rumple on the bottom of the tub, Louis underneath with Nick hovering over him. Nick immediately burst into laughter, despite having hit the side of his head on the tile, and Louis couldn’t help but join in with him.

After a few seconds though, Louis murmured, “Shut up, idiot,” and pulled Nick down, directly on him. Nick stopped laughing gradually, the air thickening with tension. He moved slowly, his lips suspended just over Louis’s, and then finally he kissed Louis, soft and tenderly. His hands clutched Louis’s sides while Louis grabbed at Nick’s hair.

When they broke apart, Louis made sure to say, “This doesn’t change the fact that you’re still a pretentious twat.” Nicked laughed and then leaned back down.

**Author's Note:**

> I'm [witchywitchbitch](http://witchywitchbitch.tumblr.com/) on tumblr, feel free to message me!!


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